


angel on the painted glass

by punktsuki



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Body Worship, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Insecurity, M/M, Post-Canon, whipped cream mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 21:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20396494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punktsuki/pseuds/punktsuki
Summary: “Do you know what eternity is, angel?”





	angel on the painted glass

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in a long while, so bear with me! This one will earn an explicit rating though if I continue it, so please let me know if that's something you'd like! Crowley and Aziraphale are owning my whole ass rn so it's likely. 
> 
> The title of this fic and this chapter title comes from ["Holy Ghost" by børns ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HDNb3rcZ7EM)
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](https://crownedcirce.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/crownedcirce)

Waking up lazily with no alarms, no immediate responsibilities and going out for breakfast had somehow become their Sunday tradition. Forget stained-glass windows, alters and wooden pews. They found God in between their dark sheets and mugs of hot liquid. Black coffee for Crowley, sweet tea for Aziraphale. Their own personal psalms shared through tongues, teeth, morning breath and  _ I love yous.  _

They had come a long way since their first night spent together. Waking up tangled in each other's naked heat seemed like an entirely different couple. But, Crowley wouldn’t have it any other way. He supposed it was inevitable, growing together, even for them. Especially after being in one another’s company for over six thousand years. Ineffable, really. 

“Just please note, this is my human form and... well, it’s temporary,” Crowley remembered Aziraphale stuttering out that first night, cheeks turning bashful and pink. He remembered the way his long lashes cast down as he looked at his naked physical form. Crowley remembered never having seen anything quite as beautiful as Aziraphale that night. He looked over at his husband next to him in bed now though and decided that today’s Aziraphale actually gave past Aziraphale a run for his money. He was breathtaking then but he was heartstopping now. 

Aziraphale hadn’t really changed physically. Neither had he, but his feelings for him had certainly intensified. He looked particularly angelic with the sun highlighting the freckles on his face and the sheets haphazardly pulled over his chest. Crowley knew that whatever illusion of modesty Aziraphale was trying to pull was absolutely useless, particularly after the night they’d just had. 

“You know, angel, I’ve licked whipped cream off your chest. You don’t need to hide it,” Crowley spoke lazily, his head leaned back onto the pillows behind him, eyes trailing the pale skin from the soft curve of Aziraphale’s jaw. He followed it down his neck to where the cotton material had so rudely interrupted his late morning voyeuristic tendencies. He furrowed his brow. It was not that he thought the privilege of seeing his husband’s body was his right as a man… or demon, it really wasn’t. It was just that he wished his husband were comfortable in his own skin, despite how temporary it may be. Because well, he wanted Aziraphale to see how beautiful he was. 

There was no point traipsing about the earth discovering weird and wonderful things if he hadn’t stopped to discover himself first. Right?

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale only tugged the sheet up higher underneath his chin, sputtering nervously. Perhaps they really were the same couple after all this time, Crowley wondered. “ _ Some  _ of us take a little pride in propriety, Crowley.” Aziraphale huffed, but red began to creep along the apples of his cheeks, almost resembling the apple that brought them together in the beginning. 

He would have looked sort of cherub-esque, Crowley thought to his own amusement, if it weren’t for that grimacing pout. 

“Do you know what eternity is, angel?”

“Well… yes, I’d say I’ve got a pretty firm grasp of it.” Aziraphale seemed happy to change the subject. Crowley wasn’t quite finished though. 

“Well, you’ll also know then that I chose to spend it with you,” Crowley starts. “ _ All _ of you.”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale let out a flustered little sigh. It was beautiful, really. A short, whispered symphony that only Crowley could translate into what it really meant. 

_ You’re too much for me, Crowley _ . 

He was up and leaning over then, the bedsheets messed in a way Aziraphale would complain about later, but, that was not important. He crossed the space between them in their bed, straddling his lap, boney knees on either side of Aziraphale’s hips. His eyes were bright and blue as he blinked up at Crowley, the way he sometimes did when he was about to kiss him. Crowley leaned in, not blinking away, not closing his eyes. Before their lips met though, he whispered. 

“What do I have to do to show you?” 


End file.
